Operation Desert Swarm by Michael Whateley

Chapter 2

Danya walked around the conference room checking everyone's connections.

"Hold up your control pads, let me see the green lights."

She walked around inspecting the control boxes and adjusting the suits. Two technicians had been in the military, so for them, getting into NBC protection was second nature. The rest of the people had made good attempts, but either had not sealed the hood around the respirator or the gloves against the sleeves.

There was a loud thud followed by a shock wave that threw Danya to the floor. She tried to clear her throat. Her eyes stung. There was a strong chemical smell in the room. She could hear mumbling; it sounded like it was far away. There was something wrong with her hearing. A cloud of dust fell from the ceiling, making visibility poor.

"What the hell was that?" Danya shouted, struggling to hear her own voice.

The conference room door burst open and David Shanks ran in. Fighting to get his breath, he said, "Sir, we have a problem."

Hugh picked himself up from the floor and checked the connections on his suit as he replied. "Calm down, man. Deep breaths. That's right, what's happening, are we under attack?"

Shanks breathed in, the calm, self-assured authority of the General making him feel foolish.

"It's the aircraft, sir, it's dropping bombs. It's hit the facility. We've taken casualties, and there is a breach in the storage facility."

"Right. OK. First things first, David. There's a box over there with your name on, open it. Get the suit. Put it on." The general turned to Danya. "Danya, are you OK?"

She had gotten to her feet and ran her hands over her body. There didn't appear to be any damage, though she was sore.

"I think so, sir," she said, looking to Hugh.

"Good, glad to hear it. Go with David, help him into his suit. Hurry now, no time to lose."

She grabbed David's hand, not something she would normally do. There was something unpleasant about him, nothing concrete, just her intuition, and she had learned to trust it. She guided him through the cloudy room, leading him to the remaining box.

Hugh turned to address the rest of the room, clapping to get their attention.

"Everyone... Please... That's right, look at me. I want you all to remain right here. This is the strongest part of the base. I assure you, no harm will come to you in here. I want you to turn to the person on your left, and check their suits and report any injuries."

"Sir, we need to issue suits to everyone on the base," Gunter said. He was one of the top engineers in his field. Short, at five-foot-four, and slim with a grey goatee and receding hairline. He had worked on the project from its inception and knew the risks better than most. The other workers were familiar with the small part they worked on, though they had no real idea of the final product. Gunter, on the other hand, had helped to come up with the project's aims.

"I'm afraid not, Gunter. These are a recent development. We had them made for the critical personnel first."

"But we have a batch in the storage facility, they have no targeting data yet, if they get out –"

"Thank you, that will do. Operational Security, Gunter, let's not forget that. I, like you, am fully aware of the consequences, but there's little we can do until the plane has gone."

***

There was chaos in the storage facility. The first bomb blasted a hole in the roof. The secondary duct-taped bomb had fallen through the roof onto a storage tank, leaving a jagged four-foot rip. Bodies littered the floor: workers caught by the blast or hit by falling debris.